


all the broken things that we made

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kings & Queens, Neutral Route (Undertale), i really think the neutral endings should be explored more tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 11:11:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5373191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for every king that died they would crown another.</p><p>three looks at endings that could've been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the broken things that we made

**Author's Note:**

> here we go with more undertale i am in ut hell
> 
> i really like a bunch of the neutral endings and i wanted to explore them a little
> 
> this first one is inspired a lot by some of nyublackneko's comics on tumblr

 

 

Papyrus is not made to be king.

He’s not built for it, he’s not right for the task; but he’s all that’s left. (Except for sans of course, but he’s not built to lead, and he doesn’t want to.)

Papyrus is not made to be king, with all his blind enthusiasm and unrelenting kindness and everything else so _Papyrus_ about him— it doesn’t fit right with the role; a king should be kind, yes, and hopeful and bring that hope to his people, but a king also has to be stern, and willing to do anything— _anything,_ maybe kill a bunch of children even if he doesn’t truly want to— for those people.

(Papyrus is no doubt willing to do anything and more, but still. But still. sans doesn’t know if his brother is really ready for this task he never asked for.)

Papyrus is not made to be king, but he tries anyway, and he tries pretty well for that first little while.

He spends hours making enough spaghetti to feed over half of the remaining underground, the ones that don’t have the money or homes or children that can’t cook for themselves (the ones hungry enough to eat it without complaint— sans takes a plate one day when Pap insists he needs it, and it doesn’t taste half bad. Undyne isn’t around to help him punch all the ingredients anymore— and he hates himself as soon as the thought pops into his head, he can’t finish the plate he feels like he’s gonna throw up god).

He tries to inspire hope in the monsters again, he gives them all jobs and tries to keep them going and he tries, so hard, but sans knows- he can see- the toll it’s taking on him. The too-serious too unfamiliar frowns on his face when he thinks he’s not looking.

He can see, because sans made it his job a long time ago to see everything, to know what’s going on so he can know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do this time.

 

He tells Papyrus that their friends have gone on vacation— _vacation_ of all things, the first excuse he could think of. It sounds half-baked even to him. He wonders if Papyrus really believes him.

He hears him talking into his phone one day, leaving a message for Undyne. Asking when she’ll be back. Telling her he hopes they’re having fun. sans tries to quench the hot twist of guilt in his chest because he knows that she’ll never check her messages, because she’s dust scattered on the ground somewhere and wow, dust can’t speak.

(She never got a proper funeral.)

Every time Pap asks about it, in between long days and longer nights full of endless paperwork and various complaints and questions and everything that comes with rebuilding a broken kingdom— it’s funny cuz sans made it his job to never work, but he’s never worked harder in his life— sans hates himself a little more.

“i’m sure they’ll be back soon,” he lies with a smile.

He wonders if Papyrus really believes him.

 

[People start to lose hope; maybe they never had any to begin with, maybe the human turned it to dust just like everything else.

They don’t want to work, because “Working hard or not, we’ll be stuck here no matter what, won’t we?”

They’re starting to lose hope.]

 

A human comes.

It’s dark, way past ‘sundown’ (there’s no sun here, never was), when sans walks into the throne room, holding the day’s work in his hands because hey pap, we’ve both done something worthwhile today, haven’t we?

“how’d it go today?” he asks.

Papyrus doesn’t turn around.

“A human is here, brother.” he says eventually. sans stops. “Not the same one from before… but a different human, from the surface. Do you know what the people said?”

They’re both very still. His voice echoes.

“‘A soul to break the barrier’. ‘A soul to break us free’. They wish for me to take the soul of the human. No puzzles. No judgment. It was the first time they showed hope,” he almost chokes on the word, like it hurts, “in months. They are all looking up to me to continue what Asgore has once done.”

It’s then that sans notices the long trident in his hands— styled similar to Asgore’s, but sleeker, smaller. (Papyrus rarely picked it up. sans knew he didn’t like the feel of it, the cold metal, the violence it suggested. Papyrus was many things, but he was not, and never had been, violent.)

It’s trembling in his grasp, along with what he can see of his brother from behind the giant throne. Along with his own hand curled around his stack of paper.

“sans…” his voice is small, “What should I do? As their king… what am I supposed to do?”

Sans doesn’t have an answer.

Instead, he takes the five steps and a twist to the throne. Puts a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“hey… we’ll figure something out. we always do, right?”

Papyrus smiles weakly.

“I suppose we do.” he says.

They’re both tired, so so tired, and sans smiles back.

 

He figures out what he has to do.

Between the people’s chants and his brother’s worry and the brand new human from the surface, it’s striking clear.

Papyrus cannot kill the human. He can, if he wants to enough, if he sacrifices a part of himself, but sans could never let that happen. He doesn’t want to see his brother fall to pieces like everything else has.

Sans _can_ kill the human. He’s killed the other one various times in various timelines he remembers vaguely and vividly at the same time, and this one probably can’t SAVE, probably can’t defend itself at all.

Sans can kill the human. He can, if he wants to enough, if he gives a part of himself up, and he can definitely let that happen, especially for his brother. He’ll fall to pieces if it means Papyrus doesn’t have to.

He doesn’t tell Papyrus what he’s planning to do. He’d try to stop him, try to insist that it’s his duty as king and sans doesn’t know if he could stop himself from giving in. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going. He pulls his hood over his head and walks down the nearly empty roads to find the human.

It’s a girl, this time. A tiny little thing, even smaller than Frisk had been, with her hair hanging in two little ponytails, all anxious and curious and scared. He tries not to look too long. He doesn’t want to look.

“you the human from the surface?” he asks- who else could it be, though, he thinks, and tries not to laugh at how ridiculously off this whole thing is.

the kid spins around with a little gasp and a face full of fear. sans doesn’t want to look.

“sorry to be doing this, kiddo… no hard feelings, alright?”

He kills the human. He makes it quick.

sans hates himself just a little bit more.

 

When he shows his brother the human soul, he doesn’t know what to expect.

Disgust, maybe. Fear. Something.

But Papyrus just stares. Like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. A little touch of sadness in his gaze.

“sans…” he says, looking at the bight purple soul, “you didn’t have to do this.”

sans shrugs, ignoring the sad sad look on his brother’s face that doesn’t belong there, and gives a half hearted smile that probably looks more like a grimace.

“yeah, i did.”

Papyrus doesn’t argue.

 

The people rejoice.

 

It gets easier with time, horribly enough.

First another human comes along, then another, and sans wonders if the kid has given up on resetting, if the anomaly has lost interest, if this is what he’s stuck with, because it’s been enough time, hasn’t it?

And Papyrus… he’s not doing so well.

His smile is losing it’s shine, his enthusiasm is dwindling. As the monsters’ spirits rise, his seems to shrink.

The underground is starting to function again. There are less and less complaints, questions— still kinda a lot, but not as much.

But as hard as sans is trying to hold him together, his brother is starting to break. Starting to fall to pieces.

They argue one night, long past that stupid nonexistent sundown again, about how sans thinks Papyrus needs to rest and how Papyrus says a king doesn’t rest before his people do and about the mass funeral everyone wants to be held and how they should’ve thought of that sooner and how they can deal with this commotion tomorrow and how no they cannot and their voices are rising and the frustration is getting thicker and—

“There is no _we,”_ Papyrus practically yells, “there’s _me._ I have to deal with this _alone_ , okay?”

“no, you don’t. you need _help_ with this, pap, i can help you!”

“Just go do your work, sans. This is a lot more complicated than killing children.”

sans freezes. Papyrus freezes.

It’s a low blow, a too too low blow, and they both know it.

Papyrus looks guiltier than he's ever seen him and sans can’t move, he just stares wide-eyed and all sorts of shocked hurt _mortified._ It’s very quiet.

“right.” he says eventually; his voice cracks, “i have a lot of paperwork to do anyways.” he doesn’t, he’s finished for the night.

“sans…” Papyrus starts.

“it’s fine,” sans says quickly, “i’m a kid killer. i kill innocent little kids and i take their souls.” he feels like crying. he hasn’t felt like that in a while.

“sans—” he starts again.

“but i mean at least it’s for the good of the people, right? we’ll break the barrier and get to the surface and everything’ll be great, right?”

“sans,” Papyrus is suddenly kneeling in front of him, when did he get there??, and there’s a gloved hand on his cheekbone and oh, wow, he actually is crying how did he not notice?

The hand moves from his face to the back of his skull and sort of pulls him forward against his brother’s chest. “I’m sorry.” Papyrus says, “I’m sorry.” and sans thinks he’s probably crying too.

His wraps his arms around him and clutches at his fancy cape and buries his head in his fancy shirt.

“I know.” he says.

Everything is spiraling and the people are happy and they’re both falling to pieces together because Papyrus is not made to be king and sans is not made to be a killer and everything’s just swell.

“I know.”

 

 


End file.
